


Mask

by tenca (orphan_account)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Flash Fic, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Headcanon, Other, after Gray takes control of Mann Co.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:48:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tenca
Summary: What Engie means by “listen to me” in that tone of voice is more exactly a “take off your mask”, something that he almost never asks Pyro to do.(Edited)





	Mask

“Pyro, please listen to me,” begs Engineer. He’s sitting in the armchair of their living room of their shared house. Engineer is on the shore of the armchair belding down slightly, hands pressings his knees and putting his weight in his feets. He doesn’t have his goggles on.

What Engie means by “listen to me” in that tone of voice, is more exactly a “take off your mask”, something that he almost never asks Pyro to do.

Pyro follows what Engie asked. They just look their friend in front, expectant.

“Thanks,” acknowledges Engineer. He swallows, looking for a way to phrase what he wants to say next. He realizes that there is not correct way. “Can you...” he pauses in agape for a little while, “Can I ask you to stop using that mask?”

Pyro gasps, twitching their face.

“You need to understand—”

Pyro breathes loudly. _There is nothing to understand._

“The constant exposure to the— to the world generated by the mask will... will make you lose your, mind, Pyro. With our jobs being over maybe—”

Pyro finally decides to talk, with the raspy voice of someone with the lungs ruined by the asbestos. “ _This is all I have_. This is what makes my life ‘living’”—liveable—“All the bad is wrong with this.”

“ _I did the mask_ , for TF industries.” The _Optical Mask_ , register by his name, like his Sentry Gun Mechanical Firing Device. “It was made for you, and now... now I can’t stand it anymore. Ain’t not lyin’ when I tell ya that’s bad for you.”

The damage is already done, and no one can know how much of it. Whatever is left of Pyro’s self is in risk in that permanent—and inflated—artificial schizophrenic state. Their mind... This is not a proper to treat someone like Pyro. Even worse: this is what it’s called using a person.

He doesn’t move, looking to his feets. He is waiting to Pyro to take his trustworthy ax and kill him, as he perhaps deserves. Engie is certainly not sure about that, not really much familiar with remorse. What he does feel is that he has no right to defend himself, which is pretty much the same.

Engineer looks up again, knowing that Pyro is next to him, closer than before. Pyro has the mask on again, but not sign of the ax in his hands. The pyromaniac doesn’t look like is about to kill, or do anything in particular. Is, just there.

Then suddenly, Pyro does something. They push Engie’s chest with their palm hand open, with violence in the manner but not enough to make Engineer lost his balance and fall back in the chair.

“Pyro,” calls Engineer, looking at Pyro who has take a few steps back, without breaking the gaze through the glasses to Engie’s eyes.

“ _Pyro,_ ” calls Dell once again, seeing Pyro for last time standing inside. Pyro leaves the front door of the house in which they both lived, without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> Is the second anniversary of [Hypocrisy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193904/chapters/20860613). If you can bare with dashes as quote marks (the chapters names are nice I think, the rest...) This fic got scraped out of [this ficlet collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808542/chapters/39453322) bc of headcanon. 
> 
> English is not my mother language, so, yeah... ended using this (https://theyismypronoun.wordpress.com/2016/06/15/writing-fiction-with-singular-they/ [too lazy for the html right now]) as example.


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